* * *
• • •
The lift car had stopped a floor above the train station, just stopped short of its destination. And that had never happened. “Have we been prevented?” Cajeiri asked as the car stayed quiet, and he saw Rieni consult that bracelet Guild wore. Every bracelet in that unit flashed a small red light. Antaro’s and her unit, not at all.
“There is a problem, nandi,” Rieni said. “We shall wait here. A general order stopped us. Onami is coming up.”
“Are they safe?” he asked. “Is everyone all right?”
“I think it is a problem of permissions,” Rieni said. “Wait, nandi.”
Another car was moving, somewhere in the bank of lifts. Cajeiri waited. He had no choice. His younger aishid moved closer to him, Antaro and Jegari putting themselves between him and the door, Lucasi and Veijico close at his back. They were armed. They all were armed. The lower floors of the Bujavid were lonely places, dim places, some not even lighted until someone threw the switch or a presence threw one of the automatic ones. It was very spooky.
The moving car reached their level. Bracelets flashed once. Rieni opened the lift door and used a key to hold the car in place. Janachi and Haniri stepped out into the dim corridor, as quick footsteps came toward them. Cajeiri stayed still, seeing the seniors’ attention generally focused to the right, though Janachi took a stance in the doorway, glancing leftward. Professional. Businesslike. No hands were near weapons, which was reassurance of a kind.
Onami arrived and came into the car. Everybody folded inward, and Rieni shut the door.
Handsigns flashed, one of which indicated the overhead.
“Disengaged,” Rieni said. “But keep it quiet.”
“Machigi,” Onami said, and gave a little nod to Cajeiri. “Lord Machigi is on the train. Did you know, nandi?”
“No,” Cajeiri said shortly. “No, nadi, I did not.”
“As best I understand, he came up by bus from the city with his own bodyguard and boarded by the dowager’s permission, under observation of the dowager’s guard. He is afforded one of seven sleeping cars.”
“Seven!”
“Lord Machigi arrived in the city by train less than an hour ago, and the reason of the late departure may be that. More, the destination is not Malguri, but Hasjuran.”
Hasjuran. Lord Topari, who was mostly just a joke.
The southern mountains. The border with the Marid.
“We are left to speculate whether your father knows,” Rieni said, “or whether the paidhi himself had any advisement on the matter.”
“One has no idea,” Cajeiri said quietly, and silence followed, a lengthy silence, his bodyguards waiting for him to have an opinion, a plan, a direction to go from here. He had made promises. He could go down there. He could ask questions and perhaps mani would answer, or nand’ Bren would, but nothing in progress seemed to be what he had thought it was.
And perhaps Father had no idea.
Great-grandmother had been disrespected in the situation at Tirnamardi. She had gone down to Najida rather than stay in the Bujavid. She had been at Najida to meet nand’ Bren when he came back, but had she, in that delay, been sending messages to the Marid? It was easier from Najida.
And she was not inviting Uncle Tatiseigi to come along, but she had nand’ Bren with her. Nand’ Bren would do nothing Father would not approve, he believed that. But nand’ Bren could have been surprised and caught in a situation. He believed in that possibility as he believed that mani might be up to something Father might not approve.
He stood there, trying to gather up all the pieces while everybody stared at him—grown, gray-haired men and his young aishid alike, nobody telling him what to do, when he most in his life wished somebody would tell him what to do.
“One does not believe we should go down there,” Antaro ventured quietly, and that, at least, seemed a helpful opinion. Antaro knew mani. Rieni did not, in any personal way.
And it was true. His elder aishid did not know. They were asking him. And listening to the juniors. And expecting him to honor his promises of sensible behavior.
“We should not,” he said, with the terrible feeling that four people high up in the Guild, while they had no experience of mani, might be aware that, if mani was up to something, that something could rebound in dangerous ways. Things were out of joint. Something was underway Father might not know, and if he told Father—all sorts of things could go wrong in the house. He did not think Great-grandmother would hate him if he told—he could not imagine that. But he had seen Great-grandmother’s anger bounce off one person and land on another. It was a fault, not a virtue: he knew that beyond any doubt. But everybody had faults. His own was going on such ventures without consulting, which had gotten him in all sorts of trouble in his nine years, so if anyone understood Great-grandmother, he did, in that respect.
But should he tell Father what she was doing? And should he tell Father now, so that Father could prevent the train leaving—and strand Machigi and embarrass Great-grandmother and have all sorts of consequences he could not predict from where he stood?
He could tell Father after the train had left, so Father could order it to stop in some place less connected to people who would gossip and make up their own conclusions . . . and maybe not connected to him . . .
But Father was smart enough to think of that on his own. Just—
If Mother heard about it, and Mother came into it—
Mother and Great-grandmother were always fighting each other. And Mother had just reconciled with Great-Uncle Tatiseigi, who was Great-grandmother’s chiefest ally and closest associate. . . .
“I think,” he said, “I think, nadiin, that we should go back upstairs, and I should talk with my father.”
Rieni gave a little nod, and opened the door of the car. “Go back down,” he said to Onami. “Keep us advised.”
“Yes,” Onami said, and left them. Rieni shut the door, then turned the key that brought the car back into service. Machinery thumped, and the car jolted and began to rise again.
He was not wrong, Cajeiri thought, to have come down for the reason he had. He was doing the right thing. He had promised not to join Great-grandmother. He had been sensible. He had known when to come back.
But—
He had never crossed Great-grandmother in his whole life. He had never given out information that involved nand’ Bren’s actions. He had never thought he would be put in the position of betraying nand’ Bren.
He wished he had never had the idea to be here in the first place.
But given everything that could go wrong, he could not wish that, either.
12
Doubtless sharing a brandy with Machigi was an experience a fugitive railway worker and spy had not enjoyed previously. One had no idea to what degree Nomari had been educated to social graces before the calamity to his family had sent him into the countryside as a desperate young boy, but he did, Bren judged, have a good bearing, and managed a graceful acceptance of a very awkward situation.
Machigi seemed wryly amused in the situation, perhaps assessing whether they were bugged in this seating area. Indeed they were. Everything was bugged. Of course they were bugged, and there were three Guild stations, one belonging to the dowager, one belonging to the Shejidani Guild, not to mention his own, monitoring everything that moved on the train—so that everybody could trust everybody as much as they had to.
Bren himself held some trepidation of the early meeting tonight interfering with the dowager’s plans for the morning, but an understanding with Machigi and a good start to the trip seemed a good idea, one of those opportunities that simply had to be taken as and when it came. There would be a record of the meeting, and the dowager would have it in due course, and would possibly get more forthright information than if she had been here. Machigi was the primary concern, the one that could
truly pose a problem. It was up to the paidhi-aiji to ask the right questions and it was up to Guild presence to ensure they all were safe.
“We will be rolling at any moment, nandi,” Narani leaned close to say, and that in fact began to happen as Narani poured the brandy, gently so, and with no disturbance of the process.
“May we have a peaceful trip,” Bren said after the first sip and a lift of his glass. “The dowager will usually be up with the sun, and expect us all at breakfast, I warn you, at a very early hour. The Red Train is old, but it yields nothing to the new engines in speed, so we shall likely make Hasjuran in good time.”
“We have yet to hear,” Machigi said, “what the dowager intends in this visit. We hear hints that we will be talking to the lord of Hasjuran, a given, and to his association. We hear that we may be contacting the lord of Senjin . . . in which meeting not all of us may be comfortable.”
Nomari looked at the table, then up, with no expression at all. Machigi had not been referring to himself, Bren interpreted it.
“You think Lord Bregani might recognize you, nadi?” Bren asked him.
“One has no idea,” Nomari said. “We never met but once face to face. But if word of my association is spreading in the north, it will reach the south, and there may be questions raised.”
“Ah, well,” Machigi said, “as ultimately they will be. But let us both pretend your spying never happened, and if Bregani is wise, he will pretend the same.”
“We shall try to keep that issue from notice,” Bren said. “How is the route from Koperna up to Hasjuran, one wonders. Can it be done at all quickly?”
“By night generally,” Nomari said, “and this is one of the problems in the system.” He paused. “If you wish.”
“If you would,” Bren said. “Explain.”
“By night is not wholly accurate,” Nomari said, “but it is a single-track run between the two stations. So any trains running south, notably to Koperna, Targai, Najida, and the middle coast, are scheduled against the four so-called night freights coming up from Koperna and points west. The track is slow on the descent because speed is dangerous on the curves. The track is slow on the ascent because speed is impossible on the climb. There are three tunnels, and the track is, besides, aging. On the rare occasions when the Red Train runs that track, it disrupts regular freight schedules. There is no reason it cannot make the climb, as it usually carries only two or three cars, but it has never gone up that grade, to my knowledge.”
“Which is to say a regular increase in traffic northward,” Machigi said, “would be few cars, and would only run at night.”
“It is a long detour to reach the transcontinental line from Koperna,” Nomari said, “but it is necessary for most shipments. I am by no means qualified to judge, nandiin, but I would estimate that the greatest improvement in Koperna’s connection to Hasjuran would be by dual-track where it can be done, but the tunnels pose a problem. It has been discussed, but always tabled because of expense and difficulty. The same with dual track in the south.”
“Interesting,” Machigi said.
* * *
• • •
They had only just reached the apartment, their own front door, when Rieni said, after a signal flash from his bracelet. “The hold has ended in the system. The train is underway.”
Cajeiri’s heart, already beating hard, beat harder. His stomach was upset. “Wait,” he said, because Father’s major d’ and Father’s doorman had let them into the apartment. “Let us go into my rooms for a moment,” he said, and his aishid moved in that direction and let him in.
The door shut. Eisi was there, and Liedi. Across the room, Boji bounced to another perch and chittered at them.
“No,” Cajeiri said, when Liedi moved to take his coat. “No, nadiin-ji. We have a problem.”
“Nandi.” His servants looked concerned, but helpless. His bodyguards stood there, knowing, but not knowing.
“How much time do I have?” he asked. “How much can you find out, and can I communicate with nand’ Bren?”
“They will be within reach by Guild message, nandi,” Rieni said. “But if they are in secrecy, it is possible there may be a careful routing of calls in and calls out. I would discourage any contact, aiji-meni. It becomes a risk of exposing their whereabouts and their purpose.”
He looked at his younger aishid, the ones who knew Great-grandmother by experience—the ones who knew nand’ Bren.
Nand’ Bren would not countenance anything against Father. He was sure of it. If nand’ Bren were not absolutely kidnapped and under restraint, he was Father’s hand on the whole business. But—
But he had never seen Great-grandmother do such things as she was doing now. And he believed Father understood what she was doing, but there were times Father just stood back and let Great-grandmother alone for a time. And if Great-grandmother was really upset, it was hard to say what she might do. She had poisoned nand’ Bren once. On purpose.
“I need to know what you know,” he said to his bodyguards. “I need to know all that you know.”
* * *
• • •
The train had reached that point in the Bujavid tunnel where the engine began its runout toward open track. They were on their way, to turn not toward the coast as advertised, but eastward, once they passed the junction. And at a certain point, tomorrow, they would turn toward the south. The Transportation Guild knew where its trains were, but the general public would not.
Brandy eased the sociality of the meeting. Machigi wanted the news from Tirnamardi, particularly on the aiji-consort’s reconciliation with Lord Tatiseigi, and the appointment of her infant daughter Seimiro as Tatiseigi’s heir-apparent—a sea change in the politics at the very heart of the aishidi’tat.
“One cannot think that Kadagidi will be far behind, in being restored to dignity,” Machigi said, on the second glass of brandy. “The entity in the heart of the aishidi’tat that has so often sent a wave of assassination and unpleasantness southward. It would be far better if that happened without the child in Dojisigi still above ground.”
The child in Dojisigi was no child—but a girl past eighteen, and already dyed with murders and plots to murder. There seemed no discernable strategy in her moves except to churn up everything in reach, foment trouble in every province within reach—and it was not, Bren thought, that it was her thought-out strategy. Tiajo, heir to Dojisigi, last heir standing after every other one had died violently and her father, Mujito, became ill—was supported by the remnant of the Shadow Guild, once clandestinely, now—not so secretly. Tiajo could flail about in tantrums that ended in someone’s death, and terrorize her own region, and her own theory might be that terrorizing her people and her neighbors made her somehow safer from assassination, but the Shadow Guild used her operations as cover for their own far more purposeful moves.
“Is Kadagidi’s restoration one inspiration for your railroad, nandi?” Bren asked.
“The argument could be made,” Machigi said. “So might my inspiration be this fool on Jorida Isle. So might the enfranchisement of the Tribal Peoples, which, believe it or not, I favor and he will oppose. This is not a whim, paidhi. The political activity of the Tribal Peoples and the organization of the west coast, the triad of Najida, Kajiminda, and the Maschi—another non-Ragi clan—creates a new constellation in the heavens. We in the Marid are an ancient people who sit on the fringes of the aishidi’tat, neither truly participant, nor truly bystanders. For that to change, for the Marid to become fully participant, truly linking our fortunes to the aishidi’tat, as the aiji-dowager herself has done, is impossible without linkage of trade. The dowager has made an important step toward us. We have made another, toward her. But if we are to make a thorough link, if we are to involve ourselves directly, trade is essential within the Marid. If we can bring Senjin to sense, if he can seize the moment, we can make other steps. What is your
latest, Nomari-nadi, on the brat in the Dojisigin?”
“I am not current, nandi. I fear I cannot be useful. I have been stationed in the capital the last season.”
“The dowager will know,” Bren said. “At breakfast, she may get around to it. Or she may not. She may wish simply to enjoy the train ride, and to hear your gossip, Lord Machigi.”
“Does Tabini-aiji know what she intends?”
“Deal with the aiji-dowager. The aiji will track what happens. I could never say that stability in Tanaja or peace in the western Marid would go against his wishes.”
“And stability in the Dojisigin Marid?”
“Stability under a good administration is always desirable. I cannot say that it seems likely there now.”
Machigi gave one of his short, grim laughs. “That district has used the Koperna railhead, indirectly, shipping by sea to Lusi’ei, and trucking to and from the station in Koperna. The threat to that link, which we will pose, will disturb some moneyed interests both in Lusi’ei and in Amarja.”
Lusi’ei was Senjin’s one good harbor. Amarja was the Dojisigin capital. Tiajo’s base, an inland city.
“For or against Tiajo, those interests?”
“Not desperate enough to oppose her right now.”
“Where is her support, nandi?”
“Nomari-nadi?” Machigi said. “You can answer that question.”
“Nandi,” Nomari said. “Nand’ paidhi. I had contacts in Lusi’ei. There is a network of sub-clans with industry reliant on foreign supply. The companies would fail were that shut off. They support the network because they rely on it, and her people run the network. That money reaches all the way into Koperna.”
“Elaborate on this, nadi,” Bren said, “if you would. We have leisure.” The Red Train was gathering speed now, having passed the junction. It was headed for a connection with the dual-track transcontinental line. “I would suspect that your own situation in Ajuri set up the connections now keeping her in power.”
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